


Unspoken

by Luka z Rivii (wayward_dream)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, No Hurt all Comfort, but he expresses affection in his own way, geralt getting the tender love he desERVES, geralt is not good with words, oh my god so tender i died a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23440462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayward_dream/pseuds/Luka%20z%20Rivii
Summary: You and Geralt have time to take things slow.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 78





	Unspoken

_ Tap-tap-tap. _ Pause.  _ Tap, tap. _

The pattern being knocked on your door sent a thrill through you. Without hesitating you scrambled off your bed and flung the door open, looking up into familiar golden eyes.

"Geralt," you breathed, a smile pulling at your lips.

"Y/N," he greeted. His smile was subtler than yours, but you read his pleasure at seeing you in the relaxed set of his shoulders, the warmth sparking in his eyes.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, heart fluttering when you heard his indulgent chuckle.

"Are you hungry? How long are you staying? Are you tired? Would you like a bath? Do you--"

Geralt gently pulled you to a stop and put a hand over your mouth to stop your stream of babbled questions.

"Slow down, dove. We have time," he murmured. Then, eyes sparking, he moved his hand to cup your chin gently, tilting it up as he leaned in. You met his kiss with a dreamy sigh, sliding your hands up to wrap around his shoulders as his other hand came to rest on the small of your back, drawing you in. You melted against him, and felt his chest rumble as he chuckled again.

The kiss was slow and sweet, unhurried as his lips loved gently against yours. When you finally pulled back, you felt like goo inside, warm and pliant.

You reached up to touch his face gently. "I've missed you."

Geralt turned his head, nuzzling your palm before pressing his lips to the heel of your hand. "And I you, dove," he breathed against your skin. Yo shivered, not missing his smirk as he noted your reaction. Huffing softly, you kissed his cheek.

"Go eat something while I draw you a bath. You look tired, my love."

His features softened in the way he only ever allowed them to when alone with you. His lips touched your forehead and you closed your eyes.

"As my lady commands," he teased quietly. His fingers slid through your hair and down the nape of your neck before slipping away.

You opened your eyes again just in time to see him disappearing down the hallway towards your kitchen.

Smiling softly, you went to go draw him a bath as you'd promised. He'd said you had time, and that was a rare luxury for the two of you.

You planned to make the most of it.

* * *

The evening was quiet, peaceful. Geralt was laying with his head on your lap, dozing, and you felt fondness swell in your heart until it ached as you watched him.

The lines of his face smoothed, his hair falling loose across his forehead, lips loosely parted as he breathed slow and deep.

Unable to help yourself, you leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

"Hm?" he hummed sleepily.

"Shh, go back to sleep," you whispered. You ran your fingers down his back and watched the tension drain out of him as he sighed pleasantly, stretching languidly in a manner that rather reminded you of a cat.

"You smell happy," he mumbled. "What are you thinking about?" He shifted so he laid on his back, looking up at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

Smiling, you stroked his hair back from his face, allowed the touch to linger, tracing the plane of his forehead, down the curve of his cheek and the slightly stubbled line of his jaw. His eyes fell closed, seeming to bask in the light touches.

"This is a good look for you," you whispered. His lips tilted up but he kept his eyes shut.

"What look is that?"

"Rested. Content." You touched a kiss to each of his eyelids as you spoke, felt the barely-there tremble that went through him. "Safe and whole in my bed." You moved your lips against the corner of his mouth, so they brushed his in a parody of a kiss as you spoke quietly in the shared space of your breaths.

"Y/N," Geralt breathed your name in a low, gruff voice. You heard his unspoken need, saw the hairs on his arms raised and the faint prickle of gooseflesh raised on his arms. It always amazed you, the affect such simple, gentle touches could have on Geralt. And you were touched that he allowed you to see his reactions; you knew he had mastered self-control and could easily hide, but instead he let himself be vulnerable, gave you his absolute trust.

You treasured it more than anything else he could ever give you, more than jewels or gowns or any other fine things he worried he couldn't provide for you.

You shifted just enough to press your lips to Geralt's, light as a butterfly's wings. He exhaled shaking against your lips, seeking, and you moved so your body lay along his. His arms encircled you, held you close as you kissed Geralt slow and deep.

Eventually you pulled back, cupping his face until he opened his eyes to meet your gaze.

"I love you, Geralt."

As soon as the words left your lips, you felt him go still and coiled under you, nostrils flaring and eyes widening. He looked like a spooked deer and you smiled sweetly, kissing his mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, his throat, pressing tender affirmations into his skin until he slowly went loose under you again, trembling slightly.

You laid your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.

It was a bit faster than usual. You smiled against his skin.

His fingers came up to slide through your hair, slow ministrations that drew a pleased sigh from you. Your eyes fluttered shut and you drifted into a a doze in his arms.

Content in Geralt's embrace, you knew he was returning your sentiment the only way he knew how. Words were not his strong suit and you knew this. You read the meaning in his gentle touches, the very slight hitch in his breathing. The tentative touch of his lips to the top of your head.

He didn't need to say it. You understood perfectly.


End file.
